Waiting For You
by NRC
Summary: He was a boy, lost in the wrong side of the war. She was the Golden Girl of the other side. Brought together unknowingly through a masked Halloween Ball, they connect, and she shows him the light. FIC CHALLENGE. TIED FOR FIRST PLACE.


**AN: _All recognisable characters belong to J.K. Rowling. All recognisable character outfits/costumes belong to their respective owners._**

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"No doubt you are perhaps wondering why you were taught this charm today."

Professor McGonagall's voice carried easily in the Transfiguration classroom. Her students were paying the strictest attention to the sharp witch.

"It would seem that Professor Dumbledore has found an excellent way to encourage interhouse unity and have an... _amusing_ time at this year's Halloween Ball."

She sniffed disapprovingly, and Hermione Granger suddenly felt trepidation. Of all the students in the class—heck, in their year—she was the closest in personality to Professor McGonagall. If the strict teacher wasn't fond of the idea, then most likely she, Hermione, wouldn't be, either.

"Mr Thomas," Professor McGonagall called to the closest student. "Kindly distribute a piece of paper from this box to each student."

The boy obediently did as he was told. Hermione received hers with a word of thanks, and was not the only one puzzled with the paper; it was blank on both sides.

"You are given a costume, as well as a specific location within the castle." Saying so, the Transfiguration professor waved her wand and words formed on the pieces of paper. "You have one week to perfect the Glamour charm _and_ to look for a costume as stated on your paper. On the eve of the ball, you are to go to the designated location _in full costume_, to await your unknown partner _in equal anonymity._"

Hermione scowled. She knew this was going to be horrifying. Her frown deepened as the elder witch continued.

"Your partners are from rival houses. There will be no questions asked to the partner in relation to identity or house loyalty. All will be unmasked at exactly midnight. _No exchanging_ of notes, partners, costumes, locations, or any information pertaining to your name or house is permitted."

The bell rang, and Hermione packed up her books, eager to be our of the room. This was exactly what she needed right now; a blind date with a Slytherin. Oh the joy her next week was going to be.

She sat down heavily on the wooden bench at the Gryffindor table, and moodily attacked her ham. Two minutes later, Ginny Weasley was sitting beside her, and Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were opposite them.

"So what costume did you guys get?" Ginny asked, oblivious to the sullen mood of her neighbour.

Ron stared at his sister. "Your year is coming to the masked Halloween Ball?"

Ginny shrugged. "Of course. It's Fourth Year and up, isn't it?"

Ron deflated, turning back to his food. "I got the Boogieman."

Harry and Hermione snorted. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"It fits you," she said dryly. She turned to Harry. "Who or what are you going as?"

"Victor Van Dort," he replied promptly. Upon seeing Ginny's confused expression, he explained, "He's the main character in _Corpse Bride_, which is like a Muggle play."

Ginny looked a bit put out. Hermione knew she'd been hoping to go to the ball with him; perhaps the fact that he wasn't in her year gave her a small sliver of hope. But they'd both known Dumbledore's schemes were foolproof; if their partners were from different houses, that'd be with no exceptions.

"I'm going as Queen Amilda, whoever she is," Ginny said carelessly, going back to her ham.

"You mean Queen _Amidala_?" Harry demanded. At Ginny's nod, he whistled. "That's going to be one beautiful costume."

Ron shot Harry a look, who caught it. Clearing his throat, The Boy Who Didn't Want To be Killed By His Best Friend turned to the brunette. "What's your costume?"

"Vampire," she replied gloomily.

Ginny stared at her. "That's a bloody good costume—excuse the pun. Why are you so sad about it?"

"My partner will probably think I'm sexy; vampires invoke that kind of presumptions."

"Herm, relax," Ginny said commandingly. "This is just a ball. So the Head made it that much more interesting. It's not like you're looking for a soul-mate there."

"But still," Hermione argued. "He'll just be shocked at the sight of me on the Unmasking and run screaming for his life."

Ginny went back to her lunch with a grimly satisfied air. "Not after I"m done with you, he's not."

Hermione visibly gulped. When Ginny promised something, she meant it.

* * *

"No _way_."

Hermione backed away from the maddened redhead, who was holding up a costume that the prudish brunette had _no intention_ of wearing.

"Come _on_, Herm," Ginny pleaded, pushing the costume towards her best friend. "It's the best one they've got for you."

"I repeat, no _way_."

Ginny sighed exasperatedly. "It's just one night, Herm. No, not even that. Just five hours. That's all anyone's asking. You can even leave right after the Unmasking."

Hermione shied away from her. She eyed the fabric like they'd personally offended her.

The redhead gave her a long-suffering look. "If it makes it feel more fair, you can do my costume. I have no idea who this Queen is; she's not a popular witch by the sounds of it."

Hermione pondered Ginny's proposition. "She's from a Muggle story," she murmured distractedly.

Ginny snorted in amusement. "Figures. Trust the old man to give _wizarding_ students _Muggle_ costumes. Maybe it goes further than just inter-house unity."

"Hmm," Hermione replied vaguely, not paying much attention as she weighed her decision. Finally, she said, "Okay, fine, I"ll let you choose this costume. I'll do yours in exchange."

"Just no over-the-top, out-of-the-world stuff, okay?"

Hermione snorted at Ginny's unintentional and unknowing pun. "No, Gin, this _thing_"—she gestured wildly to the clothes—"is about as far from over-the-top as it can possibly be."

She sounded crazy, hysterical, panicked, and paranoid, and she knew it. She wasn't about to dress up as a vampire. But Ginny wouldn't have it.

"Herm," she said determinedly. "It's just an antique dress with lace artfully ripped and a corset."

The brunette stabbed finger. "That, _that_, right there is why."

"The corset? It's not going to choke you, silly. It's all magically fitted and tied. You don't need to be strapped in."

"No it's not that," Hermione groaned. "It's just that corset will... you know..."

She waved a hand vaguely around her chest area. Ginny began having serious questions about Hermione's mental health; maybe hanging out with Ron and Harry had negative effects on her self-esteem. Ginny rarely saw her with any other girls beside herself, and that couldn't be good for a young woman. She'd had her mother when she was younger, and she had plenty of girl friends at Hogwarts, but Hermione spent all her time with the boys or studying.

Well, Ginny Weasley was about to change that. She was going to get Hermione in touch with her feminine side.

The redhead rolled her eyes as she drifted towards the counter with the costume. "That's sort of _the point_ of the corset, Herm. Trust me, you'll look like fine woman with the dress."

Hermione sighed, defeated. She could never win against Ginny when she'd made a decision.

* * *

"Hermione, that _thing_ makes me look like a curtain."

The brunette glared at the redhead. "You chose mine, so I choose yours as per the deal. You'll just have to trust me on this one."

"But I don't want to look like a drape," Ginny whined. The dress Hermione had found was an off-white _thing _that had sleeves looking like they'd unwillingly parted from several chickens.

"You're lucky I chose this dress instead of the other one," Hermione replied. "I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want to have an out-of-this-world head piece?"

Ginny looked horrified. "What kind of imagination do Muggles have?"

Hermione laughed. "Imaginative. Anyway," she continued, "it'll look better when you're actually wearing it, and you've got the right make-up and accessories."

"You promise I won't look like a drape?" Ginny asked morosely, staring at the dress forlornly.

"I promise, Gin, "Hermione replied, smiling. "All you see right now is the sleeves. The dress itself is beautiful. It should be; it was made for, and worn by, a Queen."

* * *

"Almost, almost," Ginny muttered. Then with a flourish of her wand, her work was complete.

Before her stood an alluring and striking female vampire. Her irises were a shocking red, her dark curly hair piled in a half up-do. She wore heavy black eyeliner, which contrasted well with her Glamoured pale skin and brought out her powerful eyes. Her blood-red lips were just slightly parted, and the tips of her fangs were just visible.

The corset amply brought out her breasts and gave her cleavage, and the single onyx pendant that rested just past her collarbone was the perfect accessory for the dark lace skirt. The outer sleeves of the dress were grey just like the dress, made of lave and fluffed a little before it reached the elbow. The white sleeves underneath it that reached just past her wrists were also made of lace.

Sharp drops of onyx dangled from her ears, and a single silver ring was on her right middle finger. Although they weren't visible, the heels she was wearing were also smoky black. On her left wrist was a chain bracelet.

But Ginny's favourite detail was the fake blood trickling from the vampire's neck. The red of the blood was vivid against the skin. It made her look newly converted and that much more alluring.

The redhead clapped her hands as the girl in front of her slowly turned for Ginny's full inspection. Ginny smiled to herself; the vampire Hermione Granger was a piece of her genius, and congratulated herself on a job well done.

"How is it?" Ginny asked, as her best friend tottered to the full-length mirror.

"Wow," Hermione said softly. "I'm as far from myself as I can possibly be."

Ginny tutted softly, knowing Hermione's words could be construed in two ways. "Now, now, Herm," she lightly reprimanded. "This is just a fun night. Relax, take it easy."

The normally-brunette girl nodded, still not taking her scarlet eyes from the mirror. "Have you seen yourself yet?" she asked.

Ginny shook her head. She wasn't particularly looking forward to seeing her Muggle imaginative costume, if she was honest. But Hermione wasn't about to let her bow out.

"Come on, Gin," she coaxed from the mirror. "You won't regret it, I swear."

Sighing, Ginny obliged. Then her mouth dropped open at the figure ogling at her in the mirror.

"Okay, I admit, I don't look like a drape," she said, flabbergasted.

Her dress was made from some sort of satin, and it accentuated the perfect amount of femininity. A creamy coloured 'tie' dropped down the middle of her dress until just past her knees. Her sleeves were ruffled to the ground and formed half of the lace-and-feather cape that glided behind her as she walked.

Making up her effulgence was a white circle of cloth with wooden spokes. It was magicked with an advanced Levitating charm that made it hover just behind her head, but never actually touched it. On her forehead were symbols; she had no idea what they meant. Hermione had also used the Glamour charm to pale her skin, and darkened her trademark red hair into chestnut.

Overall, the effect was rather magnificent. This dress was really made for a Queen.

"I still can't believe I look like this," she breathed. She turned to her best friend. "Thank you so much."

"It's why we're best friends, Gin," Hermione replied simply. "And thank you, too."

Ginny smiled back. "Let's go down and wow everyone."

For the first time in a social function, the bookworm loosened up. "Let's party!" she grinned.

Slapping each other a high-five, the two best friends left Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

The female vampire waiting outside the kitchens tried to calm her racing heart. What were the chances that she'd get a gentlemanly Slytherin?

Absolutely zero, that was what.

"I am undead," Hermione chanted. "I am immortal. I have all the time in the world."

Her vampire partner was currently nowhere in sight, and it was already three minutes past seven. Her meticulous self was pushing her to just go to the Ball. She didn't need a partner to feel complete, right?

After two more minutes, she lost her patience. She stomped her foot once on the stone cold floor—which she regretted almost instantly, feeling the thin heel of her right stiletto snap.

Cursing under her breath, she leaned down with her wand and lifted her skirt. Glaring at the snapped heel, she muttered, "_Reparo._"

The muffled crack as the heel repaired itself was drowned out by a loud wolf-whistle. Hermione looked up, and grimaced.

Her partner had appeared, but that wasn't why she was irritated. She wanted nothing more than to shout and rage at him for being late, and for making her feel like she'd been stood up, but she found she couldn't. She had to catch her breath. He was magnificent.

His red eyes regarded her hungrily, as if he couldn't wait to eat her—or drink her blood. His lips were up in a cruel smirk, and his carved face was pale and haughty. His oil-black hair was slicked back behind him, and his gait was that of a proud lion; confident to the point of egotistical.

"That wasn't the sight I was expecting," he murmured as Hermione let her skirt drop back to the ground. "But it was definitely a nice sight, nonetheless."

Hermione glared. "Prat," she hissed.

The vampire in front of her laughed. "You've got fire," he whispered. "I like that."

She sent him another one of her patented McGonagall-glares, before stomping her way to the Entrance Hall. She could hear him still laughing as he followed her.

"Come now, my love," he called. "You can't just leave your partner here. McGonagall will have a fit if you entered the Great Hall all by your lonesome."

Hermione didn't stop, barreling into the Entrance Hall full steam ahead. "Prat," she shouted again over her shoulder.

She didn't hear his laugh as she reached the Entrance Hall. She scoffed in disbelief at the sight before her.

Everyone was in costume, and was standing with their partners as Professor McGonagall checked them off a piece of parchment. Of course, no one said their name, but with a non-verbal Specialis Revilio charm, and the Transfiguration professor knew exactly who it was.

"See?" Her partner had come up behind her while she'd been taking stock of her surroundings. "You need your partner, who happens to be me. Aren't you just glad?"

She glared at him, but took his proffered arm with a grimace. Merlin, she'd be glad when this ball was over.

He leered at her as they made their way to join the crowd. "You look absolutely delicious, my dear," he hissed. "Just _ravishing_."

Hermione groaned. Her partner was Slytherin, egotistical, _and_ perverted. Would she make it through to the Unmasking?

"Seventh and Sixth Years," Professor McGonagall called. "Enter, please."

Half of the congregated students stepped forward, and the doors to the Great Hall opened on their right. They entered, and the rest of the students waited for their turn.

"Fifth and Fourth Years," came the call. "Enter, please."

Hermione grumbled incoherently as her partner led them to join the line.

"What may I know you by, my love?" he asked, sarcasm dripping from his last words.

Hermione sniffed in disdain. "Nyx."

"Greek for 'night'," he said. "Well, at least I was given a partner with brains."

The girl clutching his arm was slightly surprised, too. So he knew Greek, did he? She racked her brains, trying to figure out who wasn't in her house and was Greek.

"You're in Slytherin, yes?" she asked as they shuffled forwards.

He smirked as his red eyes stared at her piercingly. "Not that it matters, but yes," he replied. " I don't think you'd be in Gryffindor, seeing as they're all goody-goody two-shoes."

Again, Hermione sniffed disapprovingly. "I believe you're referring to Hufflepuffs. I'm a Gryffindor and have broken rules."

He smirked as they entered the Hall. "How long did you weigh the risks?"

She turned away from him. He hit the nail on the head with that one.

Her eyes took in the beautiful decorations of the Hall. Hundreds of magically floating jack o' lanterns were casting flickering lights on the crowd below. Cobwebs hung on the walls, and the four house tables were replaced with a hundred or so smaller tables. A space was cleared in the middle that served as a dance floor.

"Wow," she whispered. Her partner heard, because he bent his head down so that his lips were right by her ear.

"Not as beautiful as you are, my love," he breathed, holding her close as the first dance began.

Hermione turned her face away from him, annoyed at his creepy attitude. Was he deliberately trying to freak her out with the way he was acting? Hermione clenched her jaw, determined not to let him get to her.

"What may I call _you_, Count Creep-tacular?" she asked bitingly.

She could feel his lips turning up, and suppressed a shudder as his breath tickled her ear. He replied, "Eros."

She resisted the urge to glare at him again. Cupid, indeed!

Her mind began processing this new information. He was Slytherin, knew Greek and Greek mythology. Who could it be?

Her musings were interrupted when he gently placed his lips on her ear in the lightest of touches, and began to plant butterfly kisses on her cheek. She pulled away, grimacing, thankful the music was coming to an end.

"Excuse me, I have to go vomit," she muttered, and pushed her way through the crowd. She didn't bother checking if he followed. She just wanted fresh air.

She ended up by the refreshment stand. She picked up a goblet, but was confused to find it empty. She looked around for a waiter, and her eyes landed on the Headmaster at the staff table. He muttered into his plate, and pork chops appeared.

She took the hind, and murmured, "Pumpkin juice." At once, orange liquid filled the goblet. She drank gratefully.

She studied the crowd, looking for a sign of Queen Amidala, the Boogieman, or Victor Van Dort. Right on cue, the Queen stumbled out of the throng.

Recognising the female vampire, she made her way over to her side. Picking up a goblet, she ranted, "Remind me to never come to one of these house unity balls again. Butterbeer."

Her best friend coolly raised an eyebrow. "Dare I ask what happened?"

Queen Amidala took one sip of her drink, before exploding. "I got paired with Draco _sodding _Malfoy, is what!"

The vampire choked on her drink. "How do you know?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"Because the bigot thinks he's god's gift to women," she continued, not bothering to lower her voice. "He happily announced it to me when we met up!"

She angrily slammed the goblet on the table, looking every bit a diva Queen. "Do you know what he said to me?"

She adopted a falsetto voice. " 'I am Draco Malfoy. I am a racist. I despise gingers, and Mudbloods. I hate Gryffindor house, and I'm the Slytherin Sex God. You can be my eighteenth tonight.' And the bloody bastard took of his helmet and winked at me! _Winked_! As if I wanted to join the list of who he's slept with."

Hermione scrunched her face in disgust. "Does he know who you are?"

The Queen snorted. "No," she replied, picking up her Butterbeer again. "I want everyone to see his face when he realises who he'd been hitting on. Right now he's wearing a sort of black helmet."

Darth Vader, Hermione thought, a little amused. The Pureblood Ferret in Muggle costume! "I think the Slytherins are trying to prove a point tonight. My partner's in Slytherin, too, and he's acting like a total creep."

"Acting like a creep mustn't be too hard of a job for them," Ginny remarked darkly. "We have to fight back. We have to play with the players. Hit them back at their own game."

Hermione gulped uncertainly. "Uh, I don't quite know how to act like a player—"

"Relax," Ginny replied. "Your looks are good enough. Just act like you're enjoying being in their company. Then at the Unmasking, they'll see exactly who they messed with."

Ginny smirked evilly, but Hermione was uncertain. Her best friend saw the look on her face.

"Trust me," Queen Amidala said. "I've got everything planned. Speaking of which, that pumpkin juice has to go. What vampire drinks pumpkin juice?"

She pulled our her wand and Vanished it, before saying, "Grape juice."

The vampire rolled her eyes. "What vampire drinks grape juice?"

"It's the closest colour. Unless you want real blood?"

"Touche." Hermione took a sip, before scowling. "Oh great. Here comes my man."

Ginny looked up, and Hermione noticed the surprised look on her face.

"You have to admit," the Queen whispered. "He's hot."

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend. "Not when he's a prat."

He stopped directly in front of her, holding out a pale hand. "My lady?" he asked, smirking.

The female vampire shot the Queen an I-told-you-so glare, before setting her goblet down and accepting the offered hand.

He led her to the middle of the dance floor, and they began a slow dance. It wasn't long before the taller vampire bent his head to kiss her ear again.

Hermione tried her best not to clench her jaw in annoyance. He would feel her tense, and would take it as her being sexually excited. His butterfly kisses trailed down to her neck. Her pulse quickened in spite of herself.

He suddenly began sucking the fake blood dripping magically from her neck. The female vampire couldn't help herself; she moaned and rested her head on his collarbone. The male vampire continued on sucking the fake blood, his strong hands clutching her waist.

When the fake blood was gone, he raised his head and stared into his partner's eyes. A droplet of blood hung from the corner of his lips.

"Do you know what it means, to drink another vampire's blood?" he asked her, leering. At the shake of her head, his red eyes shone brilliantly. "It means you're mine."

The female vampire shivered at the cruel, possessive tone of the male. Of course, it was just fake blood, but the hungry look he was giving her made her insides feel like jelly.

As if making sure the point came across, the male vampire pushed his face closer to hers. "Mine," he hissed, before bending his head and sucking her neck again.

Hermione knew she should be pushing him away, but the feeling was too good. He was bringing out feelings in her that she had long been suppressing. She liked this side of being free, but it confused her; her conservative self was rattling the bars, not wanting to be free.

As he teased and sucked the same spot on her neck, she could feel the fire in her stomach building, until it felt like molten lava was flowing in her veins.

She gasped when his Glamour-sharpened teeth pierced her skin, and his warm tongue liked at the wound. He sucked again, but this time she knew it was real blood he was tasting. She could feel him tauten as want coursed through his body.

That was when she got a scary thought. What if her partner really was a vampire? Would he stop drinking her blood?

As if hearing her thoughts, he pulled away. He brushed his lips clean, pulled out his wand, and sealed the bite.

"Apologies," he said huskily. "Got a bit carried away there."

Hermione was still gaping at him, shocked. They were the only couple standing frozen on the middle of the dance floor.

He let out a dark chuckle at the look on her face. "I'm not a real vampire," he said, sounding a little bitter. "I just got carried away. It's always been a bit of a forbidden fantasy of mine."

He turned his face away, ashamed of admitting his deepest, darkest desire to a complete stranger. He pulled his game face back on. No getting attached to his Glamoured partner. Just play the game, as was planned.

"Let's go," he said brusquely, grabbing her hand and towing her out of the crowd. When they reached the perimeter of the dance floor, he led her around as he looked for something.

He stopped when he reached a table. It was occupied with the strangest collection of creatures; a true motley crew.

Harry, as Victor Van Dort, was sitting beside a grumpy-looking Corpse Bride. Beside her was Darth Vader, who Hermione knew was Draco Malfoy. A stoic yet clearly displeased Queen Amidala sat next to him. On Victor's other side was the Boogieman, looking ridiculous with its bulging green stomach. His partner was dressed as a jack o' lantern, looking similar to her partner with a protruding orange middle.

Hermione snorted as she sat beside Queen Amidala, and her partner sat on her other side.

"What interesting company we keep," Darth Vader drawled, his voice directed to the male vampire. "I rather think introductions are necessary."

Surprisingly, it was Ron's partner who spoke first. "That sounds like a great idea," she said, sounding like she had no idea what she was saying. "My name's Jackie, short of Jack O' Lantern."

The female vampire raised her eyebrows at Ron, who squirmed uncomfortable. Queen Amidala was the one who whispered "Luna" into her ear.

"Eros," the male vampire said smoothly. "And my mate, Nyx."

Hermione almost choked on her teeth at his words. Harry and Ron were staring at her in shock, whereas Ginny was smug. The male vampire was looking at Darth Vader, a smirk on his face and a pleased air radiating from him.

"Amidala," spoke the woman beside Hermione. "Queen Amidala."

Hermione grinned a little at her best friend's unknowing reference to James Bond.

"Darth Vader," the helmeted man said.

The Corpse Bride stared irritably at the others. "Emily," she ground out.

"Victor," Harry said. "Victor Van Dort," he expanded, when the Boogieman beside him shot him a look. (**AN: Viktor. Viktor Krum. =P**)

"And yes, we all know you're the Boogieman," interrupted Draco Malfoy's snide voice. "Now tell me, which side of the war are you on?"

The table froze, except for the Jack O' Lantern, who was humming.

"Come along now," Darth Vader chided. "We're not supposed to discuss identity or house. What other subject is as simulating and gives clues about who we are?"

"I'm pretty sure we all know who you are, Malfoy," Hermione said cuttingly.

Again, the table froze, but the stares were in different directions. Darth Vader, Victor Van Dort, Corpse Bride, and the male vampire were staring at Hermione, but the Boogieman and the Queen were glaring at the helmeted man, while the Jack O' Lantern was eyeing the ceiling contemplatively.

Then Darth Vader removed his helmet, smirking as his platinum blonde hair reflected the eerie lighting.

"Seeing as you know who I am, it's only fair you answer my question," he said chivalrously. He glanced at Corpse Bride sitting beside him, but she gave him an irritated look and didn't answer.

The man beside her spoke up. "Light side," he said firmly. The Boogieman seated next to him nodded. Malfoy was looking at them, part contemplating, part amused.

"You two must be Gryffindors," he said finally. "You two seem so proud, like lions."

"Nothing wrong with that, is there?" Queen Amidala snapped.

Malfoy turned to look at her, before grinning, "None at all, my queen," he replied smoothly. "You must be Gryffindor as well then, I presume?"

Amidala didn't answer, she simply folded her arms and glared. Malfoy let out a small chuckle.

"Eros is friend of mine," he enlightened. Hermione scooted a bit further away from the male vampire. Malfoy turned is eyes to her. "And you? Which side are you on?"

"I don't believe Crumple-Horned Snorckacks should be hunted," Luna's voice interrupted. When she tore her eyes from the ceiling to find her table-mates staring at her, she shrugged. "Voldemort's army of Heliopaths is hunting them down for their Nargle-repelling properties; I thought everyone knew that."

Awkward glances were shared around the table, before Malfoy cleared his throat, and tilted his chin, gesturing for Hermione to continue.

"I believe the world isn't black and white," she stated. "There are shades of grey; all of us have a sliver of the opposite colour. While we choose what we become, ultimately there is always parts of us in another colour. It is us who choose which colour is predominant. However, in answer to your question, I am on the side of Albus Dumbledore, because I chose to be."

The table's occupants stared at her, gobsmacked by her wording. Malfoy licked his lips slowly. "A Ravenclaw, it would seem," he said. "What would you say, then, to someone who doesn't get a choice."

"Everyone gets a choice," she replied, answering rather then arguing. "What differs is the situation and the options."

"But say," the male vampire interjected. "If family and ancestors prevented you from choosing."

"You come to Hogwarts," she replied. "You see a different option. In that case, what matters is not choice of side in the war; it is choice in what to believe."

"But say," he insisted. "The belief equaled alliance. That what you believed in was what was fed to you."

"Then it is your choice on whether you choose to see past it or not."

"So for example," Malfoy said. "Me. It's my choice to not see past my upbringing? It's my choice that I call Muggle-borns Mudbloods? It's my choice what is force-fed to me?"

"Let's take the example of a toddler," the female vampire said patiently. "When he cannot feed himself, he is fed things that he has no choice over. As he grows, it is his choice to either stick to the food he was fed, or eat other food."

"But what if," her partner interrupted again, "the mother didn't allow her child to eat other food?"

She fixed her partner with a steady gaze. "Then it is the choice of the growing child to take his freedom and choose to eat what he likes, or remain completely on the same diet. However, hypothetically, a mother encourages her child to eat other food. Also, hypothetically, a mother would know the ideal balance between what the child should be eating and what he chooses to eat."

Again, the table's occupants were staring at her. It was the male vampire who reacted first. Without giving her so much of a warning, he pulled her face to his, and kissed her passionately.

When he pulled away, he said, "You've just about saved my life."

"Glad to be of assistance," Hermione replied, a little breathless.

"Thank the gods for Rowena Ravenclaw's brains," Malfoy said reverently, seeming agreeable with the male vampire's statement.

"I'm not in Ravenclaw," Hermione said.

Her partner smirked at his friend. "She's a goody two-shoe Gryffindor."

Malfoy looked faintly surprised. "Fancy having a decent conversation with one."

His comment caused the Boogieman, Victor Van Dort, and Queen Amidala to glare at him. The tinkling of a spoon against glass sounded, and those still on the dance floor found tables to join.

The tall figure of the Headmaster stood, and in a loud clear voice, he said, "The Unmasking is in approximately one minute. All Glamour charms will lift at the same time. It is advised that everyone stay seated unless they are in a life-threatening situation. Please remember that you have been in the company of your partner for a whole five hours, and not yet have killed each other."

As the Headmaster sat to await the remaining few seconds, the male vampire grabbed his partner's hands in his own.

"Whoever you might be," he murmured to her fervently, "I care not. You are the first who has ever pointed a different road to me, and has not done so begrudgingly. I owe you my peace of mind, and that is something that cannot be repaid."

Hermione looked into his sincere eyes, and almost melted at the raw emotion in them. His green eyes showed her his soul.

Her own eyes widened as she realized his Glamoured eyes were back to their normal colour. She attempted to pull her hands from his, ashamed of her real self. She wanted to turn away, hide her face, but his hands held her strongly, his eyes drinking her in as he had when he first saw her five hours ago. He let out a breath when the Glamour charm completely wore off, and she braced herself for his disgust.

"It's _you_," he whispered softly.

She looked up, to find Blaise Zabini staring at her as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

"I've had a crush on you for a _long_ time," he murmured. "Since you came into our compartment looking for a toad belonging to a boy you knew for hardly an hour."

She blushed slightly, and looked down. He unclasped one of her hands, and lifted her chin with his finger. He stared into her eyes in wonderment.

"Hermione Granger," he breathed. "I've waited a long time for you."

.

.

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* * *

**AN:**

So I wrote this for Zombie Reine's **Halloween Challenge**. I think it's safe to say this sort of went out of proportion. I was writing on the train, and I wanted Blaise to fall in love with Hermione because she showed him "the light", to make it ironic that he'd see "the light" on Halloween. It just blew out of the water.

Apologies for not making this Halloween-y. It wasn't meant to be that serious; Hermione and Ginny's interaction while dress-shopping was supposed to be how light the story was. It just... got to serious.

If anyone was asking:

Corpse Bride = Pansy.

I just forgot to include the others in the ending; like I said, it snowballed out of my control.

**Review your thoughts and opinions. Try not to flame, thanks.**


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